


After You’ve Gone

by Beccax95



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: #FFspringfest2021, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Childbirth, F/M, Fred Weasley Dies, Fremione - Freeform, Fremione Fanatics' Spring Scenes Flash Fest 2021, Geomione - Freeform, Healing, Heartbreaking, Post-War, Pregnancy, Sad, Sexual Content, Suffering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 23:26:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29849103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beccax95/pseuds/Beccax95
Summary: This story was written following teh_kris_eh's prompt of an Accidental Pregnancy.In the aftermath of a war where her fiancé died; Hermione goes on a grieving and healing  journey  leading to happiness.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Fred Weasley, Hermione Granger/George Weasley
Comments: 8
Kudos: 28
Collections: Fremione Fanatics Spring Scenes Flash Fest





	After You’ve Gone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [teh_kris_eh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/teh_kris_eh/gifts).



“Hermione, Mon Cheri I need you to drink this for me,” a sweet voice spoke to her as something cold and wet touched her lips. The voice sounded familiar, but she couldn’t place it, her senses were dominated by the fire burning in her veins. Hermione tried to fight the pain, tried to evade the darkness ebbing in around her; “Fred,” she whispered as she slipped into a blissful oblivion.

When Hermione awoke, she was unsure of the length of time that had passed or even where she was. The last thing she knew a chandelier had been falling upon her in Malfoy Manor. Wherever she was now it certainly wasn’t the manor. Hermione was in a pastel blue room with a large square window through which she could see the sea. Hermione’s eyes scanned the room noting the exits and that her wand was placed on a white bedside table to her left, sitting next to a vase full of daffodils. She also took note of the red headed man slumbering in an overstuffed white armchair in the corner of the room; Hermione’s heart leapt with joy at the sight of him, her Fred.

“Freddie,” she tried to speak loudly but her voice came out as a low croak, despite its quietness Fred’s eye’s opened and he hurried to her side, kneeling next to the small double bed she was in.

“Princess, what do you need, are you in pain,” he questioned her, tucking an errant curl behind her ear as he examined her face for signs of pain.

“Water please,” she whispered hoarsely, Fred nodded and summoned a glass that he filled with his wand.

“Here you go, little sips,” he advised her gently helping her into a sitting position and holding the glass to her lips. Hermione drank the water slowly, savouring the coolness on her sore throat.

“Thank you,” she told him her voice louder than it had been before.

“How are you feeling,” he asked her quietly.

“I’m okay, my muscles feel stiff and I’m a bit achy but I’m not really in pain,” she told him honestly, her eyes staring down at her bandaged arm.

“Fleur said it will scar, the blade used on you was cursed,” Fred told her taking her hand in his and squeezing it gently.

“It could have been worse, I’m proud of my heritage, this word means nothing to me,” she told him firmly despite her eyes watering.

“My brave lioness you are allowed to be upset by what happened to you,” he told her raising himself up so he could settle on the bed next to her.

“I know but if I break now, I’m scared I won’t be strong enough to finish what we’ve started, to end this war,” she told him.

“You always have been stubborn Granger,” he told her gently leaning down to kiss her lips.

“Just as you’ve always been there to put me back together when I break,” she told him quietly as she snuggled into her fiancés side, remembering the times he had helped her heal she slipped into sleep happy memories warding off her nightmares like a Patronus.

_“Hermione, what’s wrong,” a voice asked the crying first year kindly. Hermione who had been crying alone in an alcove because it was her birthday, and she had no friends had looked up into Fred’s brown eyes and told him everything about how much she hated Hogwarts. Fred had shaken his head, wiped her tears and taken her to the kitchens where he’d made her laugh and sung happy birthday to her before making her blow out a candle that was sticking out of a chocolate cupcake._

_In her second year it had been Fred who had punched Malfoy when she was first called a Mudblood and it was Fred whose face she saw upon waking from her petrification, his warm eyes wide with worry, it was his arms that wrapped around her and held her as she sobbed after the horror she had faced._

_Her third year was where Fred first took her to Hogsmeade, showing her all the cool shops and buying her, her first butterbeer. It was Fred who she told about her Time turner and it was him who noticed when she had taken on too much, who encouraged her to drop divination and who comforted her after her whole class laughed at her boggart._

_When Victor Krum wouldn’t take a hint that she wasn’t interested in him, it was Fred who had pranked him and it was Fred who had taken her to the Yule Ball, who asked her to be his girlfriend and kissed her sweetly at the end of the night. It was in Fred’s arms that she slept on the overstuffed red sofa in front of the Gryffindor fire the night of Voldemort’s return._

_It was Fred who made love to her on her sixteenth birthday, worshiping her body and ensuring that their first time was pleasurable for her.  
_

_When Umbridge took over Hogwarts it was Fred who rallied her to fight back, who ensured she laughed every day even when they had to write into each other’s flesh with blood quills. It was her Fred and his twin George who left school with a bang; flying into the sunset to follow their dreams. It was Fred who snuck her out of the castle through secret passageways so that they could have romantic dates._

_After he had left school it was Fred who wrote long letters to her and kept her happy, it was Fred who snuck into the school just to hold her on nights when she was sad.  
_

_When she was hurt at the Ministry it was Fred who had stayed with her. As the world continued to get darker Fred was her anchor, keeping her sane, happy, and loved.  
_

_It was Fred who held her hand as she obliviated her parents and it was he who had proposed to her in the back yard of the Burrow before his brother Bill’s Wedding. Fred was her light, the thing she loved the most, had she been a Triwizard champion it would have been Fred under the Black Lake waiting for her to save him._

“I love you,” she whispered, her eyes fluttering open.

“I love you too,” he told her kissing her curls on the top of her head. Hermione shuffled out of his hold and repositioned herself onto his lap, her legs on either side of his body as she leaned in to kiss him.

“Mione what are you doing, your still injured,” he told as her fingers began to unbutton his purple shirt, her mouth kissing and sucking its way down his neck.

“I need you, Freddie,” she whispered grinding herself on his growing bulge, Fred moaned, and Hermione repeated her motion.

“Are you sure your up to it,” he questioned her as she pushed his shirt off his shoulders.

“I’m so wet already,” she told him pulling the white nightie that must have been Fleur’s over her head.

“God you’re so beautiful, “Fred whispered, claiming her lips with his own as he rolled them over so that he could take charge of their lovemaking.

In the small spare bedroom of Shell Cottage on the eighth of April 1998 Fred thrust within her for the final time, he was sweet and gentle, carful not to hurt her, knowing that she was still injured from her torture. They made love for hours, Fred making her orgasm multiple times with his tongue, fingers, and cock. When they were both stated they whispered declarations of love and Fred spoke of the future that the pair would have together, they’d get married, buy a cottage together and have many bushy red-haired children who would love pranking and reading, the perfect combination of the two of them. Picturing it in her mind, Hermione couldn’t think of a future more perfect than the one Fred envisioned.

* * *

Had Hermione known that Fred would die she’d have clung to him harder and she’d have never left that room at Shell Cottage, but fate was a horrid thing. A month to the day from the last time they had made love together on May the eighth 1998, Hermione stood in a small cemetery in Ottery St Catchpole, dressed in black, watching hollowly as the man she loved was encased in the ground.

Tears streamed down her face as she stood surrounded by the Weasley Family, six days had passed since the day he had been crushed to death in the Final Battle, his last laugh still etched on his face.

Hermione didn’t want to accept it, not her Fred who had promised a future of love and happiness together, not now when he was only twenty years old. He was meant to die an old man after they’d lived a life full of love and happiness not now when he was so young.

Watching the wall fall upon him had broken her, but watching him be laid to rest was far worse, it had a sense of finality to it, and the grief she had been struggling to supress broke free as she collapsed to her knees, heavy sobs ripping themselves out of her throat as she stared at her lover’s grave, a mound of fresh earth pilled atop of his mahogany coffin that he would spend eternity in.

Warm arms wrapped around her as Harry settled himself on the ground beside her, encasing her in his warm embrace as she cried against his chest.

Hermione wasn’t sure how long they stayed in the graveyard, her in her best friends’ arms as he tried to sooth her pain, she knew that it must have been hours though as Fred’s funeral had been at noon and when Harry eventually lifted her apparateing them back to The Burrow the sun had set, and the moon shone brightly in the darkened sky.

“Do you need anything,” Harry asked her quietly as he settled her down on her bed in Ginny’s room, Hermione shook her head and turned away from him, with a sigh Harry left the room shutting the door behind him. What she needed was Fred and Harry couldn’t bring him back to her.

Over the following week Hermione permanently lived in black as she attended the remaining funerals of those who had fallen during the Final Battle. Everyone around her were suffering, dealing with their own losses in their own way; Mrs Weasley locked herself away in her bedroom, Harry tried to mother everyone, George had smashed every mirror in the house and taken to drinking Firewhiskey as though as it was water.

Hermione though needed to get away, The Burrow felt suffocating, she felt like an outsider who didn’t deserve to feel pained over Fred’s loss when he was the son, brother, and twin of the other inhabitants of the crooked house. Late in the night after their final fallen comrade Colin Creevey was laid to rest Hermione packed her belongings into her beaded bag and left The Burrow not knowing if or even when she would return.

* * *

“Hermione’s gone,” Ginny informed her family sadly as she walked into the room holding a tear-stained piece of parchment in her shaking hands.

“What do you mean, she’s gone,” Ron asked after swallowing the eggs that was within his mouth.

“She left a note, packed all of her things and left,” Ginny responded handing the note to Harry who cleared his throat and read the letter to those gathered around the old wooden kitchen table:

_Dear Harry and the Weasley’s,_

_I love you all so much, but you need to grieve together as a family at this time, and I need to be somewhere else. I can’t stay with you anymore, everywhere I look I’m reminded of Fred and it’s too hard. I feel empty without him and I feel guilty to grieve his loss so heavily when George, Molly, and the rest of you are suffering the loss of him too. I’m not sure where I’m going to go but I know I need time alone. Please don’t hate me for not saying goodbye in person, I tried to tell you multiple times over the past week but every time I tried my throat constricted and I felt the darkness closing in on me. I need space. I’ll be okay, please don’t worry, I love you all._

_Hermione_

“What does she mean grieve together as a Family, she is bloody Family,” George seethed throwing his glass of Firewhiskey at the wall.

“Well, we will just have to bring her home then,” Ron told them rising determinedly.

“If Hermione doesn’t want to be found she won’t be, she kept us hidden for months Ron, when you left us in the forest even you couldn’t get back to us,” Harry told him defeatedly.

“Well, we can’t give up on her Harry, she’s Mione,” Ron responded as he scribbled a message and tied it to Errol’s foot.

“We won’t give up on her,” Molly told her son quietly, Hermione was family, and they would find her and bring her home.  
Finding her proved to be difficult though, as Harry had said if she didn’t want to be found she wouldn’t be. The Weasley’s and Harry searched for months for the curly haired witch, every owl sent returned without delivering their letters, every tracking spell failed, every sighting of her reported in the Daily Prophet proved to be false. Nobody it seemed knew where Hermione Granger was.

* * *

After leaving The Burrow Hermione had travelled to London and boarded a plane at Heathrow airport to Australia. She had sat listlessly, in her seat tears rolling down her cheeks, it seemed all she did these days was cry, you’d think she’d run out of tears, but she didn’t. A businessman near to her seat glared at her throughout the journey and an old lady had tried to comfort her but Hermione didn’t care, all she cared about was that Fred was dead, she’d witnessed his death with her own eyes, and she hadn’t been quick enough to save the one person she loved above all others.

Eventually, Hermione fell into a fitful sleep, tossing and turning in the uncomfortable half reclined seat of the plane only to awake hours later and repeat the same cycle of crying herself to sleep again.

When the plane eventually touched down in Sydney, three days later after an overnight stopover in Beijing Hermione was physically and mentally exhausted. Tiredly she made her way out of the airport and using an old paper map she made her way to where she knew the Australian Ministry of Magic was, St Mary's Cathedral, Sydney. To Muggle’s the Cathedral was known as the largest Gothic Cathedral in the Southern hemisphere, to magical folk however it was known as the entrance to the Australian Ministry.

Hermione approached the cathedral taking note of the many muggles in its vicinity. Normally she would have been enthralled by such a beautiful old gothic building with its two spires and its large circular glass window, but Hermione barley glanced up at them as she walked past the muggles to access the back of the cathedral where there was an equally old and gothic graveyard. In the centre of the graveyard a large statue of an Antipodean Opaleye stood towering over the much smaller gravestones, inviable to all but those who possessed magic. The statue was made of the same dark grey stone as the cathedral except for its eyes that were two giant pearlescent opals each the size of a small car.

Scanning her surroundings Hermione ensured no muggles were present as she pulled out her wand, pressing it to an engraved X on the dragon’s chest. The dragon came to life, flapping it’s wings and moving its head so that it peered down at her with its shining eyes’.

“What is the purpose of your visit today,” it asked in a deep enchanted voice.

“I’ve just arrived from England and wish to register my wand,” Hermione replied quietly, a grating sounded, and the stomach of the dragon opened revealing a dark staircase descending downwards underneath the graveyard. Hermione took a deep breath and descended the staircase, the further she walked the lighter the passage came. At the bottom there was a large gothic archway through which she could see a light and airy much more modern atrium full of bustling witches and wizards, directly in front of her stood a man and a woman both in Auror robes.

“Please follow us,” the male Auror asked her, Hermione nodded and followed the pair through the atrium and down a long corridor to a small office with three seats.

“What is the purpose of your visit to our country, Miss Granger,” the female Auror asked her pleasantly.

“You know who I am,” Hermione asked shocked.

“We followed the war in England very closely, we know of your involvement in it, the world owes you and your friends a great debt for taking out that lunatic,” the male Auror spoke again pouring her a glass of water.

“Thank you, if only we had done it sooner,” Hermione wiped a stray tear that escaped her eye and took a sip of her water. The female Auror smiled at her sympathetically.

“So, what is the purpose of your visit,” the male Auror asked her firmly.

“I’m here to find my parents, I obliviated them before the war got serious and told them to relocate to Australia, Auror…” Hermione let her sentence trail off not knowing either of the Aurors names.

“He’s Auror Perkins and I’m Auror Jones, but you can call us Mary and David if you’d like Miss Granger,” Mary the female Auror told her.

“Please call me Hermione,” she asked them.

“We had a large influx of people from England over the past year Hermione both Wix and Muggle alike. Luckily, the war hasn’t reached us here. Some of the European countries weren’t so lucky and the Death Eaters managed to track people down. If your parents made it to the country, we could help you track them down, but first please may we have your wand to register,” David held out his hand expectantly and Hermione reluctantly gave it to him.

“Thank you for the offered assistance, I will be able to track them down myself,” she told them when her wand was returned to her a few minutes later.

“If your sure, but if you need anything the Australian ministry is at your disposal, it’s the least we can do after all you’ve done for this world,” Mary told her holding out her had to shake hers, Hermione shook it hesitantly before shaking David’s hand too as the pair led her back to the atrium.

“If anyone from England come’s looking for me, please don’t tell them I am here, after everything that’s happened, I just want to spend time with my mum and dad,” she told them, wiping frustratedly at the tears that started welling in her eyes again.

“Of course, Miss Granger,” Mary promised when they reached the bottom of the staircase that led back to the graveyard. Hermione nodded her thanks and left.

* * *

It took Hermione two months to track down her parents, Helen, and Richard Granger who she had obliviated to believe they were Monica and Wendell Wilkins. Her parents were living blissfully unaware of her existence in a small beach front property in the tiny harbour town of Port Fairy, Victoria. Hermione spent a full two weeks observing the pair before mustering the courage to knock at their door.

Her parents appeared to be loving their life down under, they’d both worked part time something they hadn’t done in England. Her mother had taken up painting and yoga and her father had started playing tennis.

The pair seemed so different without her in their life but at the same time they were still her parents. While observing them Hermione noticed that they still had Wednesday date nights and that her father still returned home with a small gifts each day for her mother. Her mother likewise always had a book with her wherever she went, a habit Hermione had picked up from her.

The pair seemed so happy without her, Hermione was worried they’d hate her if she returned their original memories. She wasn’t sure if she could survive that, she felt like she wasn’t surviving very well as it was; she barely slept, barely ate and what little she did manage to eat she’d been vomiting up over the past few weeks. Hermione was exhausted, she had constant dark bags under her eyes, her complexion was pale and sickly and she’d lost a significant amount of weight since her arrival in Australia. Would they want a broken shell for a daughter?

Before she could talk herself out of knocking at their door for the umpteenth time, Hermione raised her fist and tentatively knocked on her parent’s blue door?

* * *

“Wendell dear can you get the door,” Monica asked her husband, she was in the middle of icing a chocolate cake in the kitchen when she’d heard a quiet knock at the door.

“Of course, love,” he told her settling his paper down on their kitchen table, as he moved past her to get to the door, he stuck his finger in her icing bowl groaning in appreciation at its delicious taste as he opened the door.

“Hello, are you okay, would you like to come inside,” her husband asked whoever was at the door, his voice sounded worried and confused. Monica felt equally confused and worried when he led a young woman into their kitchen.

“Oh my, are you alright” Monica asked dropping her spatula and hurrying towards the pair. The young woman appeared to be in her late teens, twenty at most. She was dressed in leggings and a thin baggy jumper that hung off her right shoulder, Monica was concerned by how prominent the girl’s bones appeared to be. The woman was clearly unhealthily underweight and dark bags surrounded her chocolate-coloured watering eyes that were full of despair. The girl had curly hair the same shade of brown as her own and it had been chopped so it fell to just below her ears. Monica felt a sense of Déjà vu looking at the girl. She felt like she had seen this girl before, she wasn’t sure where, but she was certain she’d seen her before when she was younger, healthier, happier and when she had waist length curls.

The girl took a shuddering breath and pulled a stick out of the small bag on her wrist, how had something so long come out of the small bag Monica wondered quietly, a voice in the recess of her mind supplied the answer, Magic. Monica shook her head to get rid of the preposterous thought and focused in on the girl.

“I really hope you don’t hate me,” the girl whispered pointing the stick at her husband and then at herself a white light overtaking the room.

A flood of memories overtook her mind; Helen Granger kissing her crush Richard on a night out, graduating from university, getting married, her and Richard buying a dental clinic in Oxford, finding out she was pregnant and telling an overjoyed Richard who spent nine months talking to her growing stomach in awe of his unborn child. She remembered giving birth to a baby with fuzzy brown curls, naming the baby Hermione after her favourite character in The Winter’s Tale. Flashes filled her mind of a smart inquisitive child growing into a beautiful woman, a witch, the woman in front of them. She remembered everything, with a gasp she hurried towards the woman, her daughter Hermione and wrapped her in her arms.

At the contact Hermione collapsed against her sobbing brokenly, Richard gathered them both into his arms as they tried to comfort the daughter they had only just remembered.

* * *

Over the following two weeks, Hermione explained everything that had happened during the war; she told them how she had obliviated them after a dinner they’d had with Fred, she told them of the horcruxes, her torture at Malfoy Manor and the Final Battle. She told them of all the losses including Fred, she told them she’d stayed in England long enough to bury the dead and then come to find them, she needed them.

Understandably Hermione’s parents had been angry at her for taking away their choice even if it was for a noble reason. As her parents it was their job to protect her not the other way around. Despite their feelings on their obliviations their main concern was the welfare of their child who was withering away before their eyes.

Two weeks after Hermione’s arrival Helen slipped silently into the small white bathroom where her daughter was heaving the toast she had eaten for breakfast, she carefully approached her daughter rubbing her back soothingly until she finished emptying the contents of her stomach into the loo.

“I think it’s time we talk about this sweetheart,” she told her quietly.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Hermione whispered.

“I think we both know there is, you’ve vomited every day and despite the weight you’ve lost you’ve started to show,” Helen informed her, staring at the slight bump of her daughters’ stomach, Hermione began to cry, and she pulled her into her side, stroking her hair the easy she had numerous times when she was a child.

“It’s Fred’s right, you weren’t…” Helen couldn’t bring herself to ask if her daughter had been raped.

“Fred’s the only person I’ve ever been with,” she whispered, Helen sighed in relief despite the sad situation.

“You need to go to the doctor’s sweetie,” she told her as she wiped away her daughter’s tears.

“How can I do this without him, mum, I feel like I’m dying every day. How do I be a mum when I can’t take care of myself,” she asked brokenly, Helen felt her own tears fall as she rocked her daughter gently.

“Your father and I will be there for you and so will Fred’s family when you are ready to tell them. Fred’s left behind a tiny part of himself that you will be able to watch grow, and you will love them and see parts of Fred every day,” Helen whispered.

* * *

Auror Mary had kept in contact with Hermione since her arrival in the country, checking in on her weekly to ensure that she was alright and didn’t need anything. Mary hadn’t told her that her Aunt Hestia was a member of the Order of The Phoenix who had sent letters updating her on the status of the war and its aftermath. The brave woman, a teenager had fought in a war and been broken by it, the least she could do was check in on her and ensure she was still alive, Auntie Hestia would want her to look after the younger witch. She probably should have told her aunt where Hermione was but the promise, she’d made the girl was the only thing she’d really been able to do and she didn’t want to break it.

Mary approached the blue door of the house she had now visited twice and knocked on it gently, after a few minutes it opened to reveal Hermione’s father who stepped aside to let her into the small pastel kitchen, Hermione and her mother were both sat at the kitchen table and appeared to have been crying recently.

“Hello, how are you doing this week,” she asked quietly.

“Fine thank you Mary,” Hermione answered sadly.

“We were hoping you’d stop by soon Mary; would it be possible for you to take us to a magical hospital,” Mrs Granger asked pleasantly.

“Mum I can go to a muggle hospital,” Hermione whispered.

“Nonsense Hermione, you’ve told me many times over the years that Magical healing is more advanced and less invasive than non-magic healing,” Mrs Granger spoke with a sense of finality and Hermione reluctantly nodded in agreement.

“I can take you to the hospital, or you can take yourselves, we’ve had your fireplace connected to the floo network for you, the closest magical hospital is the Victoria Healing Centre,” she told them pulling a pouch of floo powder out of her bag.

“Is it safe for Hermione to travel by floo, she’s pregnant,” Mr Granger asked her, Mary felt her eyes widen and she looked at Hermione with worry.

“The baby was made with love,” Mrs Granger whispered reassuringly to her as she wrapped her arms around her daughter who was crying quietly and fiddling with a silver engagement ring on her finger. Mary nodded wiping a tear from her own eye, had this girl not suffered enough and now this too.

“Floo travel is safe for pregnant women” she told them finally.

“Thank you, Mary,” Mr Granger spoke as he passed her a cup of tea.

* * *

Hermione was laying on a hospital bed, she hated hospitals. Healer Wilson: a friendly blonde witch in green robes was stood on one side of the bed smiling down at her reassuringly as her wand ran diagnostics on her body. On the other side of her bed stood her parents, Hermione clutched her mothers’ hand like it was her only lifeline.

“Miss Granger you are pregnant, conception occurred at the beginning of April,” Healer Wilson told her.

“Eighth of April 1998,” Hermione confirmed.

“which means you have just entered your fourth month of pregnancy, I am concerned about your weight and nutritional intake my scans have picked up that you are suffering from Hyperemesis gravidarum, given that you likely were already under weight due to your year you were on the run, this is something we need to deal with sooner rather than later, I’d like you to stay overnight so that I can give you some Intravenous infusions to combat this, then from tomorrow you are to take a regime of potions,” the healer told her, Hermione nodded zoning out as her mother asked multiple questions about everything Hermione was to do and take.

“Hermione we are going to scan your stomach now so we can see your baby,” the healer told her regaining her attention, Hermione pulled the top she was wearing up revealing her slightly swollen stomach, Healer Wilson cast a spell on her stomach and an image of her womb appeared in the air above them, both of her parents gasped at the sight and Hermione felt her lips turn up in their first smile since Fred’s death.

The image in the air depicted two tiny little babies, they looked like little aliens with tiny perfect fingers and toes. Twins, she was pregnant with Fred’s twins, happy tears left her eyes and Hermione brought her hands to her bump protectively.

“Twins, that explains why you have been so unwell, Hyperemesis gravidarum is always worse in multiple pregnancies. Would you like to know their genders,” the healer asked her quietly, casting a spell that made a moving photograph of her scan that she handed to Hermione.

“No thank you, so long as they are healthy, I don’t care what gender they are,” she replied.

“They are definitely on the small side but overwise perfectly healthy, the potions I’m going to give you will help them to continue to grow as they should,” Healer Wilson smiled at her kindly, Hermione smiled back.

* * *

“I think its time for us to return to England,” her father told her quietly, Hermione was resting on her parents stripy blue and white sofa, pillows stuffed behind her to support her now six-month pregnant stomach.

Since her overnight stay in the hospital, Hermione had been taking all of her recommended potions and eating healthy meals for her children. She had regained the weight she had lost during the war, her bones no longer showed, and she had started sleeping again, growing two lives was tiring work but they were her new reason for living. She had good days and bad days, she missed Fred and the pain of his loss crept up on her when she least expected it, but she was finally healing.

When she thought of Fred instead of thinking of the wall killing him or his coffin been buried, she thought of the happy times they had shared together; she thought of kisses on the quidditch pitch, the first time they made love and the pranks they played on Harry and Ron. The gentle flutters and painful kicks within her womb brought her joy, they reminded her of the life she had left to live, with Fred’s babies, babies who had an entire family who weren’t aware of their existence.

“I think it’s time to return home too,” she finally replied to her father after a long silence, smiling as one of her babies kicked against her hand that rested on top of her swollen stomach.

* * *

With the power of magic, it didn’t long to pack up everything that belonged to Monica and Wendell Wilkins and soon after a tearful goodbye on Hermione’s part to Mary and Healer Sophie Wilson the three Granger’s found themselves stood around a green plant pot that would safely transport them back to London.

Hermione smiled at the two women who had become her friends over the past few months and took a hold of the plant pot. A large clock dinged two o’clock and the three Grangers were whisked away.

An undetermined amount of time late, Hermione found her feet hitting marble, her knees buckling as she landed in the British Ministry of Magic; a pair of warm hands caught her, steadying her before she could fall to the floor.

“Are you okay, Hermione,” a familiar deep voice asked, Hermione found herself nodding as dizziness washed over her, her eyes trying to focus in on Minister Shacklebolt’s kind brown eyes.

“I’m okay,” she whispered as he pulled her into his arms, mindful of her stomach as he hugged her.

“You had everyone worried,” he told her, gently scolding her for her extended absence. 

“I couldn’t stay, everything remined me of Fred,” she whispered, watching as Hestia Jones helped both of her parents to her feet.

“Why are you and Hestia here, manning the portkey office is a bit below both of your paygrades isn’t it,” she asked him, the five of them were the only ones within the usually busy room.

“Hestia received a curious note last week from her niece informing her of her friendship with a well-known English witch, who had fled to Australia, pregnant and heartbroken, the note also informed her aunt of the details of an incoming portkey that the witch would be taking. Naturally, Hestia informed me, and we decided it best that it be us to great you, I’m sure you don’t want everything in the papers before you can tell the Weasley’s,” Kingsley informed her quietly.

“Thanks Kings how are they doing,” she asked him quietly.

“They are healing, and they miss you, The Daily Prophet keeps reporting supposed sightings of you and they follow up every single one hoping to find you,” he told her.

“I’ll go and see them after I’ve taken my parents’ home,” she promised.

* * *

Moments after stepping out of the floo network into the living room of her childhood home a loud crack sounded as a messy haired wizard apparated into the room.

“Hermione,” Harry breathed trying to pull her into his arms, his eyes widening commercially when they dropped down to her descended stomach that prevented his actions.

“I’m pregnant,” she whispered, her parents quietly excusing themselves as they headed upstairs together.

“I can see that is it Fred’s,” Harry asked, anxiously running his fingers through his hair.

“They are yes,” she replied stroking her stomach tenderly.

“They, your having,” Harry began his voice wavering.

“twins, would you like to feel them,” she asked him, Harry nodded eagerly, and Hermione took his hand pressing it to her stomach where one of the babies was kicking.

“Wow, you’re going to be a mum Mione,” he told her smiling at the gentle kicks against his hand.

“How did you know I was here,” she asked him, moving towards the sofa to sit down.

“When you left, this was one of the first places we checked, I set a ward to alert me if you returned,” he informed her, Hermione nodded as he sat down next to her.

“I’m sorry I left,” she told him nervously.

“Don’t be stupid, you’ve clearly been going through things of your own. I wish we were what you needed and that you had stayed at the Burrow but clearly you needed something else. You look so much healthier than you did in June,” Harry told her staring earnestly at her face.

“I am, I found my parents in Australia, they are what I needed while I came to terms with Fred’s death and the gifts, he had left me,” she told him smiling down at her growing stomach.

“When are you due,” Harry asked her.

“In six weeks’, time, I can’t wait, the constant pressure on my bladder is driving me crazy, help me up please so I can go to the loo,” she told him, Harry hurriedly pulled her to her feet and chucked as she waddled as fast as she could towards the bathroom.

* * *

“Harry, what’s happened why have you called a family meeting,” Charlie asked as Harry walked into The Burrow’s kitchen an excited smile on his face.

“I found Hermione,” he told them happily, as expected the gathered Weasley’s began to fire rapid questions at him over one another, Harry raised his hands to silence them.

“She’s going to come over in a few minutes, but I need to tell you a few things, she’s different,” he told them.

“Is she sick,” Ron asked worriedly.

“No, she’s healthy, a lot healthier than when she left. Hermione went to Australia and found her parents, while there she discovered that she is pregnant with Fred’s babies,” Harry told them seriously, watching as different emotions crossed the faces of his family. The most prominent emotions seemed to be happiness and grief. Mrs Weasley began to cry at his announcement and George summoned himself a sober up potion which he downed quickly seconds before the floo activated in the living room.

Mrs Weasley was on her feet quicker than Harry had ever seen her move including the time she’d killed Bellatrix, she pushed him out of the way crying happily as she embraced Hermione. Harry had a feeling everything would be okay as he watched Hermione be passed from Weasley to Weasley.

* * *

“Mi,” Teddy gurgled his little pudgy arms outstretched to her as she sat on the faded brown couch in the living room of The Burrow; at eight months old Teddy Lupin hadn’t mastered the art of walking yet.

“Hello Teddy-bear, she cooed at the baby who was dressed in a tiny blue Weasley jumper Molly had gifted him that morning, Teddy crawled towards her excitedly a smile on his face, his hair turquoise and curly.

“Mi,” he said again as he pulled himself up to a standing position, using her knees as a hoist, Hermione gathered the little boy in her arms, settling him atop of her purple jumper covered bump, cuddling the baby close. 

“Let’s have a nap Teddy-bear,” she whispered to the tot humming Silent Night quietly under her breath as the little Metamorphmagus yawned.

Holding his little warm body in her arms Hermione drifted off to sleep surrounded by the gentle sounds of her family talking and the delicious smell of Molly’s Christmas dinner cooking. Her first Christmas without Fred was going better than she had thought it would.

* * *

Hermione had settled back into her life in England easily, Kingsley offered her a job reading and reforming outdated laws of the Wizarding World, something she’d be able to do from home while caring for her children. Her parents surprised her by buying her a small cottage in the countryside; the Weasley’s and Harry helped her to decorate it, getting it ready for the arrival of her twins. Even though she lived alone it seemed that there was always someone visiting her, keeping her company as her stomach continued to swell.

One day two weeks before her due date; Hermione awoke to a gentle hand stroking her stomach, and a whispered one-sided conversation she wasn’t meant to hear; “Hello little ones, I’m your uncle George, your daddy would have loved you both so much. I’m not him but I promise I will take care of you both and your mummy, I’m three weeks sober today, you guys don’t need an alcoholic for an uncle. I’m going to remain sober so that I can be there for you,”

“You’re going to be an amazing uncle,” she told him putting her hand on top of his.

“Fred would have been an amazing dad,” he told her, his eyes watering, Hermione nodded in agreement as she pulled him into an awkward hug, George chuckled patting her stomach lightly.

* * *

Hermione went into labour ten days after her due date on the eighteenth of January 1999; her labour lasted twenty hours and she had her mother, Molly and George at her bedside, she’d tried to do it without pain relief but in the end, she’d begged for painkillers that numbed her contractions considerably as she birthed her babies. Fred and Rose Weasley came into the world moments before midnight with wailing lungs and tufts of curly red hair upon their tiny heads. Hermione cried with happiness as they were placed upon her chest, instinctively latching onto her breasts as they fed.

_Hours after the twins had been born before the onslaught of Weasley’s that would come in the daylight, a beam of light erupted into the darkened room and Hermione awoke with a sense of peace as she looked at the man before her._

_“Fred,” she whispered._

_“Hello Love, you did brilliantly,” he told her smiling down at the babies in the crib next to her. He gently stroked both of their heads with one of his fingers before approaching her and settling onto the bed beside her._

_“How are you here, is this real,” she questioned her lower lip wobbling._

_“Don’t cry, I can’t stay long, don’t focus on the how of things,” he told her wiping a stray tear away from her face with a tender smile._

_“I miss you,” she told him._

_“I know but, I never left, you might not be able to see me, but I will always be here, and little Fred and Rose will be there to remind you of how much we loved one another. I love you and I want you to be happy. When you are ready it’s okay to move on._

_“But I love you,” she told him, Fred smiled, tucking a curl behind her ear as he leaned down to kiss her softly._

A cry emitted the air and the image of Fred faded away as Hermione’s eyes fluttered open. With a smile on her face she lifted the crying baby out of the crib, humming softly, the taste of Fred still on her tongue.

Going forward Hermione chose to believe that Fred had visited her that night in St Mungo’s. Occasionally over the years he’d visit her in her dreams, usually on important dates like the day she sent the twins to Hogwarts, or the day before she married George who she’d grown to love as he helped her raise her children. Rose and Fred ended up been the perfect mix of their parents as Fred had predicted the night they were conceived; they were mischievous curly red headed bookworms. Even in death it had been Fred that had put her back together, allowing her to live a life full of love and happiness. Decades later after she’d given birth to a further three children and had many grandchildren Hermione closed her eyes for the final time and Fred was waiting for her with open arms.


End file.
